


Plants awoke and they slowly grow

by BeautifulSoup



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Epilogue, Thanksgiving, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulSoup/pseuds/BeautifulSoup
Summary: Everything that fall was new.Adam had a new life now: out of the control of his father in both body and mind, his hands and his eyes his own once more, the strange new/old Gansey he had bargained them for, the delicate fledgling thing he had with Ronan. He felt full to the brim, and unsure where he stood.

Adam spends Thanksgiving at the Barns.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because, as a Brit who has spent a grand total of a week in the US, I am obviously the right person to write a Thanksgiving fic.
> 
> So, first Thanksgiving after TRK. Timeline's obviously a bit spongey, but I figure it's fairly close to the end of the book? If not, eh. Too late now.
> 
> Apologies for any dental bills incurred by the reading of this fic.
> 
> Title from "Human" by Of Monsters and Men.

Everything that fall was new.

Adam had a new life now: out of the control of his father in both body and mind, his hands and his eyes his own once more, the strange new/old Gansey he had bargained them for, the delicate fledgling thing he had with Ronan. He felt full to the brim, and unsure where he stood.

It was the first Thanksgiving he had spent outside his parents’ trailer. He had got out of the habit of calling it “home” a long time ago.

He knew, academically, what normal people did at this time of year.

He knew not everyone crowded round a tiny table with a barely scraped together meal, chewing in silence. Not everyone feared standing up at the wrong moment. Not everyone waited until their father was paralytic from drink before sneaking out to sit on the front step and blink back tears. Plenty of people did, Adam was all too aware, but it wasn't exactly the national standard. It wasn't the Disney Channel Festive Special.

He was glad of the brief respite from school and work, but uncertainty simmered in him.

The Ganseys had very kindly invited him to spend the holiday with them, along with the rest of Gansey’s friends. Adam had a feeling that this was a little bit of an olive branch after Adam’s disastrous visit that summer and the elder Ganseys’ less than polished visit to Monmouth after the younger Gansey’s missed fundraiser. The invitation had arrived on thick, creamy card, beautifully embossed and handwritten in elegant calligraphy, handed over by an extremely red-faced Gansey.

“They wanted me to give you this,” Gansey had said, not quite looking at Adam. “You don't have to come if you don't want to.”

Adam wasn't sure if Gansey was more embarrassed about the sheer expense obvious on the card or the thought of Adam in his parents’ mansion again.

“Everyone’s invited,” he added, seeing the conflict on Adam’s face. Adam swallowed, nodded, and slipped the card into his pocket.

“I'll think about it,” he said, and Gansey dropped it.

A similar invitation came from 300 Fox Way, not delivered on luxurious cream card, but by Blue sighing it out as she threw herself onto the couch in Monmouth.

“Christ, no,” Ronan said as soon as she’d finished. “That house is a danger any day, I’m not stepping foot in there on fucking Thanksgiving.”

Henry was going back to Vancouver. He couldn't support the holiday from a moral standpoint, he said, and it wasn't part of his cultural heritage as either Korean or Canadian. This started an in-depth conversation between Blue and Henry about what assholes the pilgrims had been and the on-going misrepresentation and poor treatment of First Nation peoples.

Adam tuned out, his eyes drifting shut after a full day of school and the thought of a shift at the factory to come. Ronan’s fingers traced patterns lightly over the back of his hand, lulling him into the white noise drifting up around him.

“Hey,” Ronan said quietly when Adam turned his head a little to smile at him. “Declan and Matthew are coming down from D.C. for it. We're just gonna eat till we throw up and watch shitty movies. Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” Adam found himself saying without hesitation. “That sounds great.”

 

So Gansey traipsed off to face his family alone in his best suit, calling them all out as the cowards they were, and Blue squeezed herself into a chair between Gwenllian and Orla and glared at them both while eating her broccoli as viciously as possible.

Adam drove to the Barns with sweaty palms and a racing heart, unsure why he was nervous. He got there before Declan and Matthew, which he was glad for in an indistinct kind of way.

Ronan greeted him with a smile and stepped slowly, hesitantly out the door, his hands rising to rest on Adam’s biceps. The kiss was gentle and quick, and Adam felt blood rising to his cheeks when Ronan stepped back to look at him, his eyebrows drawn together in a serious line but the shadow of a smile on his lips. It was so new, this casual intimacy between them, and Adam always felt pleased and a little embarrassed by it.

“Hey,” Ronan said.

“Hey.” Adam followed him inside. “When are the others getting here?”

“Soon, hopefully, otherwise this’ll turn to shit,” Ronan answered, pulling something out of the oven. He squinted at it, shrugged, and shoved it back in. “We never really did Thanksgiving,” he said to Adam’s questioning look. “Dad was Irish so he never really got it. We tried, I guess, but I dunno.”

He shrugged and leaned back against the counter, thumbs hooked into his pockets. He looked so at ease, so comfortable here, and Adam felt that relaxation seeping into his own muscles. The tension in his shoulders disappeared. Osmosis.

“He couldn't fucking stand turkey so we always had spiced beef.” That explained the dark lump Adam had seen in the oven. “Hope that's okay.”

“It's better than canned creamed corn,” Adam said in a way he hoped would come across as casual. The look on Ronan's face implied that it had not. “Sounds great, really.”

And it smelled great. It was a warm, festive smell that Adam had noticed as soon as he'd stepped in the house. Spicy and sweet and mouth-watering. His stomach growled, and Ronan grinned at him.

“I can give you a sneak preview of the bread,” Ronan said, amusement clear in his voice.

“I’d rather wait for the others.” Although the pile of rolls on the counter did look and smell tempting.

“Suit yourself.”

Adam looked at him, relaxed and smiling as he leaned against the counter, and felt his heart swell. He wanted to kiss him, he realised, wanted to kiss him when he looked exactly like that, soft and happy, and he could.

So he stood up and walked over to Ronan, cupped his face in his hand, and did just that. Ronan puffed out a breath over his cheek, and a moment later his hands came to rest on Adam’s hips, firm and steady. He tasted like the kitchen smelled, warm and spicy, and Adam wondered how much of the food he'd been trying as he cooked. His hands slipped casually into the back pockets of Adam’s jeans and tugged him closer.

Adam sighed. He was still getting used to this new Ronan, this boy who dreamed lights and cooked dinner and kissed him so softly, but the comfort of him seeped into Adam’s bones.

“Do I smell spiced beef?” Matthew’s voice carried through to them, bright and excited, followed by the sound of the door closing.

“Did you think we were going to have fucking _turkey_?” Ronan called to his brother, pulling away from the kiss with a smile so tender it made Adam’s heart ache. He pressed one more kiss to Adam’s lips and pulled away. Just as Matthew skidded round the corner on his socked feet, Ronan slipped his hands from Adam’s back pockets and took his hands instead.

“Hoped not. Wasn't sure.” Matthew turned his glowing smile from his brother. “Hey, Adam!”

“Hey, man,” Adam replied, and had to extricate his hand from Ronan’s to bump Matthew’s fist.

“Ronan!” Declan's voice rang out from the front door. “Where's the goddamn coat stand?”

“Out for repair!” Ronan called back, catching Adam’s eye with a grin. Adam knew that the goddamn coat stand was well past repair, as Ronan had used it as part of an experiment that had ended with flames and triumphant laughter. “ _I always hated that thing_ ,” he had said as they'd watched it burn.

The only reply Declan made was a huff of breath, and then he came through to the kitchen. Adam was surprised to see him in a knit sweater and jeans; he'd got so used to seeing Declan in nothing but neat suits that it seemed incongruous for him to wear anything else. It made him look more like Ronan, if Ronan ever wore anything without artfully ripped holes.

“Parrish,” he nodded to Adam as he came in.

Ronan squeezed Adam’s hand and dropped it to turn to the counter.

“Matthew, make yourself useful and set the table,” he said, steering Matthew towards the cutlery drawer with a hand on top of his head.

“Where's Opal?” Matthew asked, shoving his hands into the drawer and coming up with untidy handfuls of silver.

“Hell if I know,” Ronan answered, pulling plates from another cupboard and handing them to Adam. “Out bothering the cows with Chainsaw probably.”

 

At dinner, they didn't go round the table and say what they were thankful for. It wasn't that kind of meal, but as Adam ate and watched Matthew joke with his brothers, he thought about it anyway.

In the trailer, Adam had only ever been thankful that he knew he wouldn't be there forever, that he had his escape planned. Every year he had been forced to clasp his hands and say how thankful he was for what his father provided. Hollow words to bolster a hollow man’s ego.

Now, he was thankful for the fact that the two boys sitting either side of him were still breathing, that Declan hadn't been left alone.

He was thankful that Gansey was still with them, alive and whole and somehow more than he had been.

He was thankful to be out from under his father’s roof.

He was thankful to be here at the Barns, eating fresh food he had never tasted before, made by a boy who constantly surprised him.

He was thankful for the couple of days he had free from work and school, for the time to spend with his friends with no freaky shit involved.

He was thankful for the way Ronan's knee nudged deliberately against his under the table.

Ronan and Matthew joked around, firing peas and lumps of roast potato at each other while Declan tried to cover his smile while he told them off and Opal gnawed on the corner of the table. There were blunt chew marks on all four corners, so it was clearly not a new habit.

The food was unexpectedly delicious, the beef spicy and savoury with a sweet chutney. Adam’s jaw had dropped when he found out Ronan had made it from scratch.

“I used to help mom out at Christmas,” he explained with a shrug, and Adam had to bite his lip to stop from grinning when he noticed Ronan’s ears turning red. “It’s pretty easy. Opal helped.”

“It’s delicious,” Adam said, because it was. It was warm and it was new, and Ronan had made it. Opal grinned at him, wide and sharp.

Declan and Matthew had brought a pecan pie from a bakery in D.C. that they didn’t even contemplate cutting into recommended portions. They sliced it into quarters and passed around the ice-cream like a condiment.

Adam couldn’t remember feeling so full, or laughing so much.

After the meal, they moved through to the living room. The couch was big enough for all five of them to sit with plenty of room, which seemed unlikely but not surprising, all things considered.

Adam sat next to Ronan at one end, feeling his cheeks warm and his heart skip as Ronan’s arm settled around his shoulders and drew him close. He wondered when such a casual touch would feel normal rather than extraordinary to him: how often would Ronan’s fingers brush the hair from his temple before it stopped feeling like a noteworthy occurrence? In a way he hoped never.

Ronan caught his eye, and Adam saw the question in them: _Is this okay_? He just smiled and settled into Ronan’s side with a sigh. _Okay_ wasn’t strong enough.

Matthew sat in the middle, Opal beside him, their shoulders pressed together as they grinned and chattered, two dreams banding together.

Declan kicked his legs up at the other end, prodding Matthew in the thigh with his feet until his youngest brother laughed and tackled him.

“What do you want to watch?” Ronan asked when the laughter had died down.

“Sharknado! Sharknado!” Matthew chanted. Adam couldn't see Ronan's face, but he could feel him rolling his eyes. For Ronan it was a full-body movement.

“No way dude, that is way too mainstream. Use your imagination.”

“I picked this up in D.C.,” Declan said, pulling out a DVD. “Thought it might do the trick.”

“ _Thankskilling_? Awesome!” Matthew cried, snatching it out of his brother’s hand. “Is this obscure enough for you?” He asked Ronan, shoving the box in his face.

“Homicidal turkey? Cool, stick it on.”

Matthew leapt from the couch and ran to the TV.

Adam laughed. “Are we seriously gonna watch this?”

“No,” Declan answered, flashing his Congressman’s smile, “we’re stupidly going to watch this.”

Matthew threw himself back onto the couch and settled down with the popcorn in his lap. “Let’s do this!” He said, and started the movie.

“Oh great,” Ronan deadpanned as the movie started. “Tits.”

What followed was the worst movie Adam had ever seen in his life, but by the end his stomach hurt from laughing at the Lynches’ running commentary. They made fun of the acting, of the special effects, the plot. Matthew even held his hands over Opal’s eyes during the sex scene, which made Declan spray his soda out of his nose.

“That was fucking horrendous,” Ronan laughed as the credits rolled. “It was supposed to be bad, not borderline unbearable.” He threw a cushion at Declan, who batted it away with a laugh and a smile more relaxed than Adam had thought possible.

“All you said was ‘shitty’, man, and I provided.”

“I need to bleach my brain, dude. Stick on-”

“NO!” Declan cried, curling up on himself as he laughed. “We are not watching another fucking _Fast and the Furious_ movie.”

“He must have them all memorised by now,” Matthew said around a mouthful of popcorn.

“Do you see them play whenever your eyes close?”

“He only wants to watch them because he’s got a thing for-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ronan managed to catch Matthew in the head with the cushion.

Adam sat watching in quiet amazement. This was the roughhousing he’d seen at Ronan’s birthday, but verbal. The easy give and take of jokes and half-hearted insults. It was something he’d never experienced, had never expected to experience. He sat and watched as warmth blossomed in his chest. Had he ever thought Ronan and Declan would be able to talk without throwing their fists?

“You’re both dicks,” Ronan grumbled. His arm around Adam’s shoulder tightened briefly. Adam turned to look at him. “Ignore them, they’re both dicks.”

“So I heard,” Adam said, unable to keep the amused smile from his face. “Who do you have a thing for?” He asked, his smile turning to a shit-eating grin as Ronan swore gracefully and mussed his hair, and Matthew guffawed.

They ended up flicking through the channels until Matthew settled on some ridiculous Hallmark movie. It was stupid in a quieter way than the first movie, and the brothers’ running commentary came more and more slowly. Eventually, Matthew’s comments turned into snores, and Adam turned to see him dozing with his head on Declan’s shoulder, cuddling Opal to him like a favourite teddy bear. Declan sighed and rolled his eyes, nudging Matthew gently in the side.

“Come on bro,” he said as Matthew stirred. “Go sleep off the food coma in bed.”

“But will the lonely air hostess find love in time for Christmas?” Matthew mumbled as he stumbled to his feet.

“Yes,” the rest of them chorused, and watched as he flashed them the peace sign and traipsed up the stairs.

Declan fished his phone out of his pocket when it started ringing, and disappeared through to the kitchen to answer it.

“Hey,” Ronan said into Adam’s ear, his lips close.

“Hey you.” Adam turned to smile at him, laughing a little when Ronan nudged his nose gently.

“You good?”

“Great.”

Adam was still smiling when Ronan kissed him, just a brush of lips that sent warmth flooding to the tips of his fingers.

“You’re staying over, yeah?” There was something strange in Ronan’s tone, and it took a moment for Adam to realise it was uncertainty.

“If that’s okay?” He hadn’t thought about it, had thought it was obvious. He was already taking this for granted. He opened his mouth to apologise, but Ronan cut him off.

“Yeah, you idiot, of course it’s okay.” Ronan kissed him again, then glanced to the kitchen doorway quickly. “It’s just, last time you stayed in Declan’s room, but…” He trailed off, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Ronan Lynch,” Adam drawled, smile spreading, “are you asking me to sleep with you?”

Ronan’s cheeks flushed even darker. “Yeah, _sleep_ , you asshole.” He jostled Adam’s shoulder with his. “I mean, you could-”

“Shut up,” Adam interrupted, and kissed him. He kept kissing him until Declan came back into excuse himself to bed. His parting comment for them to “be safe” left Ronan sputtering and Adam laughing.

Ronan tugged him upstairs not long after, and despite Adam’s intentions to make the most of their situation, they were both asleep in minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

It was something he could get used to, waking up in the quiet of the Barns in Ronan’s comfortable bed, Ronan himself warm against his chest.

He traced a finger lightly along the lines of Ronan’s tattoo as the watery November light filtered through the curtains and revelled in the warmth of the house. His room at St Agnes was proving to be as cold in the winter as it was hot in the summer. He could see his breath on the mornings he got up early for work, and was quietly dreading what it would be like come January.

Ronan’s room was perfect, Ronan’s bed was perfect. It was probably some dream magic: imagined sheets or quilts or something. Adam’s mind drifted from it, as it often drifted here. Instead, he pressed his lips to the nape of Ronan’s neck and listened to his sigh.

“You working?” Ronan’s voice was a murmur as he reached behind him for Adam’s hand. He found it and pulled it to his chest.

“Not today.” Adam scraped his teeth against the hook of Ronan’s tattoo and delighted in the shiver that travelled along his spine. He felt bold, like he was still in the middle of a dream. He supposed he was, here. Ronan’s fingers flexed around his, then twined themselves with his.

Ronan didn’t say anything, but Adam heard it in the way Ronan brought their joined hands to his lips. _I’m glad_. Adam’s heart hammered its echo.

The sun was bright in the sky by the time they made it downstairs.

“Adam,” Matthew said when they appeared in the kitchen, his mouth full of French toast. “Declan's car was making this weird squeaking sound.”

“ _Matthew_ ,” Declan warned, throwing a crust at his brother. Matthew picked it up with a grin and ate it. “Let him get some fucking breakfast first.”

“What do you think it could be?” Matthew carried on as if he hadn't been interrupted. “My money’s on a hamster under the hood.”

“Would have to be a fucking loud hamster,” Ronan put in, coming over to sit by Adam at the island, sliding a cup of coffee to him.

“I can have a look, if you like,” Adam said, turning to Declan. “It's probably just a loose fan belt. It'll take five minutes.”

“I don’t want to put you out,” Declan said, watching him carefully.

“I don’t want you to break down halfway back to D.C.,” Adam pointed out, and a smile cracked Declan’s face. “It’s no trouble, really.”

“Thanks,” Declan said, and Adam didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to Ronan with a fondness he never thought he would see.

 

Adam’s first thought had been right, and the Volvo was an easy car to work on. Ronan and Matthew scrambled in a headlock at the other side of the car, a situation that had started as Matthew standing by to offer help and had quickly deteriorated.

“Hey, Parrish.” Declan came up as Adam shut the hood, and handed him a cloth to wipe his hands on. “Thanks.”

“No problem, it was an easy fix.” Adam shrugged, hands in his pockets.

They stood together watching the younger Lynches in silence for a moment.

“I don’t just mean for the car,” Declan said, and his breath left him in such a rush that Adam realised he had been working up to this. “For being here, I mean. It’s the first time we’ve done this since Dad…” He swallowed hard, kept his eyes on his brothers. “It’s helped him, having you here.” He turned to look at Adam, his gaze solid. “You’re good for him.”

“I don’t-”

“You are. You don’t take his shit.” He smiled a little, just one side of his mouth tightening in something so unlike his usual politician’s smile. “But, if-”

“You’re too late for the ‘don’t hurt him’ talk,” Adam interrupted with a smile. “Gansey beat you to it.”

Declan laughed at that, loud and booming so that Ronan and Matthew both turned to look. He clapped Adam on the back. Brotherly. Adam’s mind struggled to make sense of it.

“That asshole.” He looked at Adam again, this time aware of his brother’s eyes on him. “Thanks again. Are you coming at Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, surprising himself. “If that’s cool.”

“Fuck off, Parrish,” Ronan laughed. “‘If that’s cool’, what the hell?”

“I guess it’s just a straight ‘yeah’, then,” Adam drawled, trying his best to scowl at Ronan but failing utterly.

“Cool!” Matthew called. “It’s going to be so great, I’m gonna make-”

“Alright, bro, don’t ruin the surprise,” Declan laughed. “Come on, we need to go. I’m meeting Ashley at two.”

Declan shook Adam’s hand, a textbook handshake. Matthew gave him a quick, tight hug and pulled back with a bright grin before getting into the car.

They drove off, Matthew hanging out the open window and waving furiously. Opal ran alongside for as long as she could keep up, and once the Volvo pulled away she made her way back to the house in uneven loops, screeching at Chainsaw circling above as she went.

Adam and Ronan stood and watched the car disappear on the winding road, stayed there until the sound of the engine had vanished completely and the air was full of nothing but birdsong.

“Come on, Einstein,” Ronan said after a while, catching Adam’s hand in his. “I need your brain for something.” He tugged Adam towards a barn.

There wasn’t a part of him that wanted to protest, so he followed, tightening his grip on Ronan’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Thankskilling_ is a real movie that I 100% **would not recommend**. I mean, I consider terrible movies a hobby but _**fucking hell**_.


End file.
